The Weekend, continued

So there is lots more to tell about the weekend. It was our first weekend home in a quite awhile, in which we could just hang out and be as kinky or vanilla or a mixture of the two as we wanted. It was soooo nice to just…be. Be us. Relax. Talk. Work on the computers.
Get ass-fucked about 10 or 12 times.
Oh, was that my outside voice? Ooops.
I did have my ass used hard though. It was all because Little Sister, that bitch, decided to start her monthly bitch-session Saturday morning. I had a hint Friday night, and since I knew that W had something cooking – tho at that time I thought it had fallen through – I felt it was only fair to give him a heads-up. I fully expected him to let me out of the scene with his friend.
“I might be on my period tomorrow.”
He didn’t even hesitate. “You have two other useable holes.”
It was…in spite of my squeamishness and anxiety…kind of hot.  That he didn’t back down. That he was framing it that way: my holes were to be used. I was a collection of holes to be used as he saw fit. It’s a huge turn-on to me when he treats me thus.
And that was to be the tenor of Saturday night. I was to be a hole for his friend – and possibly his friend’s friends – to use. As before, he was offering me up as fuckmeat, because he wanted to see me fucked in every hole possible by his friend’s huge cock.  And that was exactly what he got.
I looked over at W several times that night to see that…look…he gets on his face when he is especially pleased with me, and I knew that in spite of my nervousness before the event, I was glad that I had done as he wanted and not backed out. Though we talk a lot about consensual non-consent, I do have the actual ability to say no, and he will honor it.  But…I have begun to wonder if I have the emotional ability. Perhaps…not anymore. I get too much out of pleasing him to risk disappointing him, to risk letting him down.
This wasn’t exactly easy for me, though. I’ve talked about my difficulty with bodily functions, my period in particular. It took me almost three years to be okay with having sex with W while I was bleeding, and even so it is still difficult for me when it happens.  (But hot. Fuck it’s hot. ~sigh~ I’m just so twisted. LOL) So just the possibility of spotting with a stranger freaked me out a bit.
He knows this, but he was firm that he was going to make me do it. I could call off use of my cunt, if I chose – he allowed me that choice – but I would go and let T use my mouth and my ass.  My ass! With that huge cock!
It turned out I was only spotting a bit by Saturday night though. I took a deep breath, popped a Xanax, and said, “Okay.”
I know, I know…I shouldn’t deal with this shit with pharmaceuticals! But I figured hey, if the doc thinks it’s a good idea to take one when I am nervous about flying (they were prescribed for a specific situation) then I am sure she would agree that “having sex with a stranger when I was bleeding” would also be deemed proper use.  Whatever. It took the sharpest edge of my anxiety off, leaving only the good kind, the kind that comes from W using me this way, from obeying his orders even when I don’t want to, from being made to be a “dirty girl.”  (And then being told what a good girl I am, how pleased he is with me, how proud of me he is.)
Fuck I love this shit that he does to me.
So we went, and I was his fuckdoll all night. Mostly, it was fun, even the ass-sex. Though W hadn’t been able to “prep” me (he’d planned on ass-fucking me before we went over and sending me over with a plug in, but I guess we ran out of time) I was still able to accommodate T quite well. Lubrication makes all the difference! LOL  There was only one tricky moment, when T decided he wanted to piss on me. Okay, I can deal with that. I somehow knew that it wouldn’t have the same emotional impact that it does when W does it, so I barely hesitated. But in the middle T told me to “open my mouth.”
Way back when, when all this started, W had told me that his would be the only piss I would ever have to drink. Now I know it is a fantasy of his to have me be some kind of piss-and-cum girl for a Superbowl party.  A nasty, dirty fantasy that I know is just that: fantasy. So I don’t mind him talking about it, and I can even get turned on by it, too. But in reality, when he told me that I would only drink his piss, I took it to heart. As much as I hate drinking it, somehow that has become something “special.” I know, fucked-up. But there it is. So when T said, “open your mouth,” I immediately turned to look at W, who was watching and taking pics. I expected an immediate, “No, she doesn’t do that.” What I heard was, “Do it.”
I am sure my shock registered clearly on my face, and he realized what he had done, because he retracted it almost immediately. T didn’t push it, and the moment was smoothed over. But I was hurt for just a moment. Logically I knew even as it happened that it had nothing to do with what he had told me before. He was excited in the moment, and maybe even had visions of his own fantasy in his mind. We are all human, and sometimes we let our little heads rule us in the heat of the moment. It even kind of turns me on that he could be ruled by lust, by simply wanting me to do it.
But there’s more to it even than that. In the moment between him saying “do it” and retracting it, in that endless moment, I had already made up my mind to do it, if he told me to. I took a breath and was about to obey, in fact, when I heard him say no. I wanted to obey him, with every part of me, even though it was absolutely something I did not want to do. I would have been unhappy with him after, I know that. But I would have obeyed.
It is moments like that that later make me cock my head and contemplate what this thing is that we do. What I have become, who I am, what I am.
I do not want to be anything else. I do not want it to be one bit different.
As we drove home that night I turned to W. “Will you come inside me, please? And…a cupcake. Will you buy me a cupcake?”
He did both.
And used my ass all day Sunday, over and over, and my mouth, and tied me in rope and made me crawl up the stairs and wear heels all day and he put Hello Kitty clamps all over my back and tits and ears as he ass-fucked me.
Oh, and made me wear them under my dress to retrieve my car that night.

Oh, you don’t know what Hello Kitty clamps are? Well, some time ago, just prior to going to Tryst, this happened. After hearing about it, Ad decided it would be most hilarious if I was to put Hello Kitty stickers on W’s toys for when he opened his toybag at either Tryst or Fusion. The only place I was able to get one stuck on was at Fusion, on a plastic bag of clothespins that he had brought.
He never saw the sticker.
Of course we had all kinds of fun at Tryst playing on the theme, but it wasn’t exactly what Ad had envisioned. Sunday morning the bag of clothespins lay out on the floor, a remnant of our trip to NOLA. He still hadn’t seen the damn sticker on the front of the bag. It’s kind of hard to throw oneself under the bus when the bus driver has such poor vision. lol  So…I pointed it out. What the hell. I kind of had this attitude Sunday: You got what you wanted (me fucked), now I want to get what I want (me beat up.) So I tried to…you know, “facilitate” it.
It actually led to a lot of fun play, in fact so much so that by the time we got home from picking up my car and W offered to beat me up, I was too worn out.
Sigh.
But it was a good worn out, so I can’t complain too much.
But now…it’s Tuesday, he has family in town until they leave for a family thing over the weekend, I am going out of town with the Boychild Friday, and I have plans until next Wednesday when I get back.  So I will have to wait again!
But maybe – just maybe – I’ll get a good beating then.
Especially if Hello Kitty shows up in his toybag again. 😀